Incomplete
by Lord Cynic
Summary: Reposted oneshot songfic. Set 50 years after the end of Chrno Crusade. Chrono finds it extremely difficult to carry on after he's lost so much, even after such a long time.


**Lord Cynic: **"This is really retarded. For some reason, this got removed because it contained lyrics that weren't mine. Obviously, the people didn't realise I have a disclaimer for that. This is really messed up... tons of people write songfics, so technically 1000's of fanfics are now about to be babbed. This is, again, really retarded. I've got at least 5 songfics in my portfolio, so you'd expect I'd be banned in maybe a month or more. In the meantime, I'm reposting this maybe to rub it in their faces or make a point. _**WE USE DISCLAIMERS!**_"

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**Lord Cynic: **"I don't own Chrono Crusade. I'll be able to get Volume 1 of the manga in a week though, yay! **"Incomplete"** is a song by _Backstreet Boys_. _**I do not own the song or its lyrics, but for Hades' sake don't remove this again, damnit. **_Do not laugh at me, darnit. Just read the story and you'll see."

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**_Incomplete_**

The bustling streets of late 1970's New York provide pathways for thousands of busy, impatient individuals eager to end their tiring day. The night-lights dotted on random curbs flicker endlessly, indecisive about illuminating the city and its repetitive inhabitants. However, the people have long adapted to the government's hesitation to replace the shoddy light bulbs, and carry on with their preoccupations with very little concern. They walk to unknown places, their expressionless faces telling no stories, only their bodies acting automatically as if on permanent cruise control.

**Empty spaces fill me up with holes  
Distant faces with no place left to go  
Without you within me I can't find no rest  
Where I'm going is anybody's guess**

Only one individual stands out among the monotony of the faceless crowd. His long, matted violet hair, considered an abomination by many, flaps carelessly over his shoulders. Occasionally, the wind blows it over his long, pointy ears, to which he simply flicks it back as if an impulsive response. However, his most striking feature is his dark, crimson eyes. At first glance, people would assume he severely lakes sleep, and think no more about thing. But the tone of those sullen red orbs is pure, as is the stabbing emotional pain that shined within them.

**I've tried to go on like I never knew you  
I'm awake but my world is half asleep  
I pray for this heart to be unbroken  
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete**

Long ago, people he knew had once attempted to console that pain. But his wounds cannot be healed, and those he cared about were forced to watch him live in deep remorse and self-loathing. Their souls have long departed from this world, so the individual with the long violet hair no longer has anyone to offer false hope or compassionate words that would be met with the brick wall of his heart. There was no one important left in his world, and he watched it progress through war and violence to become the grey structure-populated planet it now was. Those he held in his heart then became replaced with the faceless people who considered him a freak for him 'unhuman' appearance. However, the irony of that criticism became lost in the deep pool of his sorrows; pools he wishes he could drown in to ease his pain once and for all; pools he could drown in to repent for his despicable sin.

**Voices tell me I should carry on  
But I am swimming in an ocean all alone  
Baby, my baby  
It's written on your face  
You still wonder if we made a big mistake**

He had taken the life of the woman he loved. He wishes with all the fragments of his long-shattered heart that it was an accident, but there was nothing accidental about it. The tension of the moment caused his emotions to overwhelm his rationality, in the end sealing the fate of his beloved. Their final battle became her final battle, and he was left to weep, as she became to fade away. She had tried to convince him that it wasn't her fault, but he knew then, and he knew now, that he was undeniably the cause for her untimely departure from the physical world. They had finally confessed their feelings to one another, told each other they were in love with the other, but not even the greatest force on Earth could spare her from her fate. Many decades later, he hopes to repent for his sin once and for all, but ultimately there is no saving his tainted soul.

**I've tried to go on like I never knew you  
I'm awake but my world is half asleep  
I pray for this heart to be unbroken  
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete**

He wades through the faceless crowd, ignoring looks of agitation and disgust. But he doesn't care. He knows what he is, and he assumes no one else does. Their only reason for their contempt is that he looked different. That is the type of world that now exists, one full of discrimination for those who are dissimilar. However, a long lifetime has provided him with immunity to the disapproval of his peers. As a result, he simply shakes it off with disinterest, since the only people whose opinions mattered to him, could no longer give them. He couldn't even give gratitude for everything they'd done for him. Worse still, in the end, what had he given them? The demise of a person, whose infinity purity and kindness overrode her fiery exterior and grouchy temperament, was his only gift. A person who, despite several misfortunes and minor rivalries, had filled the worlds of her cared ones with optimism and hope for the future. When she'd left, all that optimism and hope had vanished with her, as if it needed her existence to thrive. Without those, without her, everyone fell to grief and sorrow, until he was the last remaining survivor. But he would give anything, even his own life, to see her smile, to feel her kiss one last time.

**I don't mean to drag it on, but I can't seem to let you go  
I don't wanna make you face this world alone  
I wanna let you go (alone)**

He doesn't know he can continue living without her, not even after 50 years of little consequence. The time had passed without major incident in his case, but all he is, is an empty shell. Without her to provide guidance, he is lost without a cause. She gave him strength to live on, but he will gladly return it to ensure her happiness. Her happiness... what was her happiness? She'd told him before her time had stopped. _For you to be happy,_ she'd said. But now can he be happy without her? He has tried, oh merciful Lord has he tried, but it's becoming impossible. The only thing keeping him from forcibly joining his beloved's side is the promise he made to her. _I will live on, for both of us,_ he'd sworn. He has kept that promise with great reluctance, but one horrifying sight literally tears him apart.

**I've tried to go on like I never knew you  
I'm awake but my world is half asleep  
I pray for this heart to be unbroken  
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete**

In the outskirts of 1978's New York, he proceeds towards a grassy field. The lush emerald blades of grass, the vivacious colours of various floras, the clear blue skies (must like her eyes) all contrast with the drab, depressing, grey, lifeless environment of the main city. This location is the individual's sanctuary from his emotionally tortured soul. The idea of a sanctuary is bitter irony to him, especially because deep in the green pastures lies a symbol of the dark, drab city: a tombstone sits on a small hill, clearly apparent in the cheerful shades of the earth surrounding it. Engraved in its stony structure are words that bring rare tears of despair to the individual's eyes. They are words he is yet to be used to after 52 weeks a year for 50 years of gazing at them.

_"Here lies Rosette Christopher. Holy saviour, loving sister _('Had a weird moment there where I actually typed brother. Thanks for the clear up, froggiesrcool')_, dearest friend, former rival, brave nun warrior. Born 1908, died 1928. May the heavens welcome you with open arms. R.I.P."_

**Incomplete**

The individual heaves a heavy sigh and gingerly blinks the tears from his eyes. Those sorrowful, crimson eyes stare long and hard at the concrete words that confirm his worst nightmare and house his brightest star. Eventually, he removes a chisel from his worn-out red coat and kneels before the tombstone. Fighting back more tear droplets, he begins to etch the conclusion to a half-finished poem at the bottom of the tombstone.

_"Precious contractor, my true love,_

_May you be smiling down at me from the heavens above._

_I will fulfil the promise that I made to you true,_

_And live out lives together, my life, and yours too._

_- Chrono."_

_**THE END**_


End file.
